Let Your Hair Down
by Helena L
Summary: KOTOR: A series of vignettes showing the developing relationship between Bastila and Revan, aka 'Jacob Sora', as they draw closer together during their mission to defeat the Dark Lord.
1. Part 1

A/N: This is the first story I've written that's actually set during the events of the game. I briefly thought of writing a fic spanning the entire game, but decided against it, on the grounds that a) it would take forever and b) it's been done about six million times before. However, I may write a few more small vignettes like this if people like it.

BTW, 'Jacob Sora' is the name I used for Revan on my first playthrough of the game. Not a great name, but it's pretty much stuck in my head now.

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* * *

Let Your Hair Down**

It was early evening on Tatooine. In the docking bay which housed the _Ebon Hawk_, a few weary Czerka mechanics and customs officers were still going about their business, whilst a group of spacers haggled over weapons and supplies with the Paaerduag trader. Nearby, an argument had broken out over one pilot who was refusing to pay the docking fee, and a small crowd of bored locals had gathered around to watch in the vague hope that a fight might break out.

But the _Hawk_'s crewmembers were largely oblivious to the commotion outside the ship. The day had been long, hard and extremely tiring, not to mention swelteringly hot, and the confrontation with Calo Nord had left everyone a bit shaken. On their return to the ship the majority of them had simply collapsed into bed, too exhausted to bother fighting over the showers or even getting undressed.

Gentle snores rose from two of the bunks in the men's cabin, where Carth, Canderous and Jacob currently maintained a somewhat uneasy coexistence. The two soldiers – who had, astonishingly, managed to put their usual hostilities on hold for most of the day – were presently fast asleep. Jacob, however, had woken up some time ago and been unable to go back to sleep; finally he had given up trying and turned to meditation, which could be nearly as restful as sleep in its own way. Being a Jedi might not be easy, but it was turning out to have its advantages.

Just as he was beginning to sink into a trance, however, he was startled to hear a knock on the cabin door – very faint, but still enough to break his concentration. Sighing, he sat up, swung himself wearily off the bunk and plodded over to the door. "Who is it?" he enquired in a low voice, not wanting to wake the others.

"Jacob?" The voice was Bastila's. Surprised, Jacob touched the panel by the side of the door, which slid aside to reveal his Jedi bond-mate. She had a slightly crumpled look about her, as if she had been sleeping in her clothes; her hair was mussed up and her eyes a little bleary.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," she said, before he had the chance to speak. "But I sensed that you were awake as well." She glanced over his shoulder at Carth and Canderous. "Would it be possible for us to talk in private?"

Jacob turned to look at his slumbering companions, and smiled slightly. "I wouldn't worry about those two. I don't think they'll be waking up for quite a while yet."

She nodded reluctantly. "Very well." Jacob walked back over to the bed and sat down on it, motioning her to do the same. What could she want to talk to him about now, he wondered – surely not the Dark Side again?

Once sat down opposite him, Bastila opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated. "I'm not entirely sure how to say this."

He stifled a smile. "Well, take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

"I suppose I should just come out and say it." She drew a deep breath. "I wanted to apologise to you, Jacob. I can't help feeling that I've treated you rather badly over the past few weeks."

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't this. "Treated me badly?"

"Yes." She looked down at her hands, nervously twisting her fingers together. "It occurred to me that I may have been too... critical of you. I know you must be getting sick of all my lectures about the Dark Side and... well, everything else."

"Just a little," he admitted bluntly. She cringed, but went on.

"When I first knew you, I believed that you weren't taking any of this seriously. You seemed to view everything as a joke." She raised her eyes to his once more, her face earnest. "But after what's happened in the last few days, with Calo and my mother... I've come to realise that this isn't the case. I wanted... to thank you again, and to tell you how much I – I respect and admire you."

Jacob stared at her, surprised and rather touched. He was so used to being lectured and scolded by her that these few words of praise meant quite a lot to him. "Well," he conceded, "I guess I may have misjudged you a little as well."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really? How?"

"When we first met, you got on my nerves quite a bit. I found you a little..." He hesitated. _Stuck-up, rude, arrogant..._ "Uptight," was the word he finally settled on.

"Oh." She looked a little sheepish. "Well, I can't really blame you – I _am_ uptight, I know that. I try to be calm and controlled, but I just seem to end up pushing everyone away from me." A small sigh escaped her lips. "And to think I used to swear that I would never become as self-absorbed and stodgy as the Jedi Masters..."

This time he couldn't stop himself from laughing. "Ah, come on. You're not as bad as all that."

"But I'm getting that way, I'm afraid." She smiled ruefully. "You've been a lot more patient with me than I deserve, but I'm afraid the others won't be so forgiving."

"They just need to get to know you, that's all." He paused, somewhat hesitant to ask her a personal question. "Bastila... surely you must have had friends your own age in the Order? I mean, didn't you ever go out with them or anything?"

Her face clouded over a little. "Yes, sometimes... though Dantooine isn't exactly famed for its night-life, as you may have noticed. But that was before the war started..."

"And since then?"

"Well, ever since then I've been rushed around from one part of the galaxy to another. I don't make friends very easily, and, well... I'm never in one place long enough to really get to know anyone." She shrugged philosophically. "So most of the time I just have to amuse myself."

"Doing what?"

Another shrug. "Reading, meditation, listening to music..."

Jacob stared at the young woman in disbelief, feeling a sudden surge of compassion for her. What a life! And she was, what, twenty-three or twenty-four? He said nothing, but once again it occurred to him that the Jedi Council had a lot to answer for.

"It's not the Council's fault," she said softly, as if reading his thoughts. "They didn't have a choice, any more than I did. There was no one else capable of stopping the Sith."

Jacob remained silent. He knew in his heart that she was right, but the unfairness of the situation still grated on him. If only he could... Suddenly, an idea came to him.

"Listen, how would you like to go out for a drink tonight? Just to the cantina down the street." He saw her hesitate, and a horrible thought struck him. "Please tell me Jedi are allowed to drink."

She smiled faintly. "Alcohol is permitted in moderation, yes. But..."

"Come on, Bastila," he coaxed. "Just for one night, let's forget about Malak and the Star Maps and have some fun. We're leaving the planet tomorrow, anyway."

"Well..." She looked strongly tempted; then suddenly her face fell. "Oh, but I can't. I gave all the money I had to my mother so that she could find a doctor."

"Doesn't matter. I'll pay." She opened her mouth to protest. "Honestly, Bastila, it's just a few drinks! I don't mind, I promise."

She laughed, finally relenting. "Oh, very well then. Just give me a few minutes to get ready." Her eyes slid over to the other two bunks. "What about the others?"

Jacob grimaced. He knew what generally happened when Bastila, Canderous and Carth got together for any length of time, and he didn't fancy acting as umpire all evening; besides, in all honesty, he secretly preferred the idea of having Bastila to himself. "Um... I think we'd better let them get their sleep, don't you?"

As he had expected, Bastila did not raise any objections to this. While she returned to the women's cabin, Jacob went into the swoop hangar where HK-47 stood in sleep mode. "HK?"

The droid's eyes lit up with that eerie red glow that always made Jacob slightly uncomfortable. "Master?"

"Bastila and I are going out for a drink. If anyone asks where we are, tell them we've gone to the cantina. Unless you'd like to come too?" he added mischievously.

"Response: Alcoholic beverages have no effect on me, master," replied the droid, without a trace of irony. "However, I believe that damage to certain circuits can produce a similar – "

Jacob raised a hand in alarm. "Enough information, HK. Just remind me to always take you to a properly qualified mechanic, will you?" He could barely repress a shudder at the thought of a 'drunken' HK-47. As if the thing wasn't bad enough sober...

Bastila appeared in the doorway, looking considerably fresher and neater than before. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded and gave him a quick smile, which he returned. "OK, let's get going."

-----

Dusk was falling as they left the ship, and Tatooine's two suns had almost disappeared behind the tops of the Anchorhead buildings. The oppressive heat of the day had faded a little, and a faint breeze had sprung up, but after the air-conditioned comfort of the _Hawk_ it was still like stepping into a sauna. Bastila winced and pulled up the hood of her robe, trying to shield her face from the glare of the suns' dying rays.

"I'm glad we're finally leaving this planet." He was surprised by the fervour in her voice. "The heat and the dust... it makes me feel like I'm suffocating. I can't think straight in this place..."

Jacob nodded, glancing around at the parched ground and the scrubby, spindly bushes which seemed to be the only vegetation Tatooine could support. He could understand where Bastila was coming from; with her pale skin and delicate colouring, she clearly wasn't suited to a desert climate. "What's your homeworld like?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"Talravin? Quite... cold. Cold and rainy." She fell silent for a moment. "I don't remember much else about it, to be honest. And yours?"

He shrugged. "Deralia was just a rock, really. Nothing special about it... not even heat. I'd be lying if I said I was sad to leave."

She paused, looking directly into his face. "You don't have any particularly fond memories, then?" Her eyes were fixed on his; not for the first time, he got the distinct feeling that she was searching for something.

"No, not really. I told you my family died when I was young..." Her penetrating gaze was beginning to unsettle him. She must have sensed his discomfort, as she quickly nodded, then lowered her eyes and turned away. They walked on through the drab, dusty streets in silence, attracting the occasional curious glance from the local Jawas as they scurried about their business.

The sounds of lively music drifted over to them as they approached the cantina. "Sounds like there's some kind of dance going on," remarked Jacob.

Bastila looked down at her simple robe and tunic. "We're not exactly dressed for it."

"Who cares? It's not like there's a dress code." He half-turned to face her and briefly laid a hand on her arm. "You look great. Seriously."

She coloured slightly and gave him an embarrassed smile. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Jacob shook his head incredulously as he followed her through the door. Surely the woman must realise how beautiful she was? As if anyone who saw her could think twice about the clothes she was wearing.

The cantina was poorly lit, uncomfortably hot and very crowded; clearly Anchorhead didn't offer much else in the way of night-time entertainment. The clientele was disproportionately male, mostly hunters and Czerka miners, and Bastila felt several pairs of eyes linger on her appreciatively as she and Jacob squeezed past the tables. She grimaced, feeling her stomach tighten and her face grow hot; suddenly she remembered exactly why she did this kind of thing so rarely.

"Jacob, I – " But he was already pulling her by the wrist towards one of the underlit tables, somehow managing to clear a path through the people thronging around the bar. " 'Scuse me. Coming through. Make way for the lady, please." She had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling; with his laid-back charm and effortless self-confidence, he reminded her so much – but no, she mustn't think like that. _He_ was dead.

"What would you like to drink?" he asked, when they had finally secured a table. "Fancy a glass of Tarisian ale?"

She winced at the thought. "I'd prefer some wine, if you don't mind."

He grinned and nodded. "Somehow I thought you might. OK, back in a minute." He vanished into the crowd and returned within a remarkably short time, clutching a drink in each hand.

They talked their way through one glass, then another. Bastila felt herself relax as the wine began to take effect, and soon the conversation was flowing a lot more freely. Emboldened by the alcohol, she gradually shed her normal reticence and became quite talkative – even confessing to the time when, aged about sixteen, she and some of her friends had snuck out of the Enclave one evening and gatecrashed a party held by one of the local landowners.

"You did that?" Jacob threw up his hands in mock horror. "I am shocked. Shocked!"

She laughed. "Even Jedi go through a rebellious phase. Though as rebellions go, I must say it was rather tame."

"Did you get caught?"

"No, but one of my friends drank some ale that was a little stronger then she thought it was. We had to practically carry her home." She began to giggle helplessly. "Then the next day, she had to go through four hours of training with a splitting headache. I heard her say afterwards that she'd never touch another drop of alcohol as long as she lived."

Jacob joined in with her laughter. "Well, at least someone learned a lesson from it." He shook his head with a smile and drained his glass, tapping his fingers in time with the music floating up from the basement downstairs. "Can you dance?" he asked suddenly.

She pursed her lips. "I don't think so. I've never really tried."

"Well, it's time you learned." He seized her hand in his, pulling her to her feet. Before she had the chance to protest she found herself being dragged out of her seat, through the packed cantina and down the stairs to the dance hall.

The hall was somewhat less crowded than the cantina upstairs, and there were a few more women around. However, despite the band's best efforts, there was a distinct lack of actual dancing going on. "Boring lot," muttered Jacob, looking over at the few couples half-heartedly gyrating on the dancefloor. He flung their robes over a chair and took her hand again. "Right, let's show them how it's done."

Despite being pleasantly tipsy by now, Bastila wasn't nearly drunk enough to relish the thought of making a fool of herself in front of all these people. "Jacob, I don't _know_ how it's done!" she hissed.

He sighed. "I'll show you. Come on, it's easy." He led her out into the middle of the room and began to sway in time with the music. "Just do what I do, and try to feel the music flow through you. You're a Jedi, aren't you?"

Awkwardly, her cheeks flaming, Bastila made a hesitant attempt to copy his movements. To her surprise, it was easier than she had expected; her Force training had given her grace and a natural sense of rhythm, and soon she found herself able to predict Jacob's steps and move in time with him as she would in a lightsaber duel. She briefly found herself wondering whether this was a legitimate use of the Force, and was startled to realise that for once in her life, she really didn't give a damn.

Sensing her growing confidence, Jacob twirled her under his arm and bent her backwards with a small flourish. "See?" he grinned. "You're getting the hang of it." Suddenly, before she realised what he was doing, he was reaching behind her head and pulling out the bands which held up her hair in its two neat pigtails. She gasped in shock.

"About time you let your hair down," he laughed. Before she could respond he had grabbed her hands and was whirling her around so that her loose hair streamed out behind her. Together they spun around and swung each other back and forth, giddy and breathless with laughter, and suddenly Bastila no longer cared what anyone thought of her. She and Jacob were in their own little world, oblivious to the other dancers who had fallen back to give them room or retreated to the sides to enjoy the show.

There was a smattering of applause as the music died away. Bastila flopped against Jacob's chest, panting and somewhat dizzy, but elated. He smiled down at her, and for a moment everything else seemed to blur into the background – the voices, the laughter, the coloured lights...

Then another song was beginning, this time a lot slower, and she suddenly realised that he was holding her very close – so close that she could feel his heart beating and his warm breath against her hair. A strange tingling sensation rippled through her, and Jacob felt her tremble slightly in his arms. "Want to sit this one out?" he asked gently.

She nodded, torn between relief and a vague sense of disappointment. With a reluctant sigh he released her from his grasp, then accompanied her off the dancefloor and back to their table. "Excuse me for a minute," he murmured, before disappearing into the crowd.

A warm, muzzy feeling of contentment began to steal over Bastila as she waited for her friend to return, watching the remaining dancers swaying back and forth in each other's arms. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this alive, this... _happy_. She hadn't believed herself to be lonely, but only now did she realise how much she had missed having someone to talk to and share confidences with. And, she realised, she truly enjoyed being with Jacob – he made her feel so at ease, and so...

Her attention was distracted by the sounds of animated conversation at another table. It was occupied by a group of young Twi'leks, all in their late teens, and all of whom appeared to have had rather too much to drink. Their conversation probably wasn't meant to be overheard, but the combination of its sheer volume and Bastila's heightened Jedi senses made it difficult for her to miss.

"Wasn't that the guy who was at the swoop track the other day?" one of the women was saying in Twi'lek. "I can't believe he managed to beat Zoriis. I wonder if he'd give me his autoprint?"

Her male companion looked less impressed. "He's a Jedi, isn't he? Easy enough to win swoop races when you can use the Force. I call it cheating."

"Well, I think he's gorgeous." This prompted a burst of raucous laughter from all except her companion, who looked even less amused than before.

"Dream on, Zekla," smirked the other woman. "A Jedi? Not a chance." She threw a quick sideways glance at Bastila, who sat rigid, trying to avoid giving any indication that she could hear them. "Anyway, I think he already has a girlfriend."

"You don't know that. She could be his sister or something." More snorts of laughter.

"I don't think so." The man's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Did you see the way they were looking at each other? If she's his sister, I'm Zoriis Bafka's second cousin."

"Lucky bitch." This was said in a half-whisper, but still quite loud enough for Bastila to hear. Suddenly she felt as if she had been drenched in cold water; her stomach lurched and her chest tightened so sharply that she struggled to breathe.

"Bastila?" She looked up to see Jacob coming back towards her. Before he even saw the expression on her face, he had sensed that something was wrong. "What's the matter?"

"I'm... not feeling very well." She stood up, trying to fight down a sudden wave of nausea. "I'm sorry, Jacob. I'm not used to drinking very much..."

"It's OK. Come on, I'll take you back to the ship." He reached for his robe.

She shook her head, feeling a little guilty for spoiling the evening. "No, you stay here if you want. I can find my own way back."

But he was already putting on his robe. "Hey, no problem. Can't have you wandering around Anchorhead alone with this sort of low-life around."

His tone was jokey, but she still felt a stab of irritation at being patronised in this way. "Who, the Jawas? I am a Jedi too, Jacob. I assure you that I'm perfectly capable of defending myself against any 'low-life' I happen to come across."

He grinned. "Oh, it's not you I'm worried about. It's them." Then his tone grew slightly more serious. "Besides, you never know when Malak will decide to send some more Dark Jedi after us. Come on, let's go."

He draped her robe over her shoulders and slipped an arm around her waist, guiding her towards the exit. Somehow the feeling was strangely comforting, and she didn't have the heart to protest. Together they made their way up the stairs, past the crowds of Czerka employees still trying to drown out their sorrows, and out into the night air.

-----

The two of them walked back through the streets of Anchorhead, once more in silence. The night was cool and quite peaceful, and no bounty hunters or Dark Jedi leapt out of the shadows to accost them as they wound their way back towards the ship. Away from the heat and noise of the cantina, Bastila soon began to recover; by the time they had reached the docking bay, her breathing had eased and she was walking much more steadily.

As they approached the _Hawk_ she turned to Jacob and smiled, her eyes warm and bright. "Thank you for tonight," she said quietly. "I enjoyed it. I... would like it if we could be friends."

Jacob took a deep breath. He had been dithering over this for a good part of the evening, but it was now or never. "Just friends?" he asked softly.

Immediately he realised that he had said the wrong thing. Bastila stiffened visibly; her smile vanished and a look of faint distress crossed her face.

"You know we can't be anything else. I'm sorry." There was genuine regret in her voice. "Maybe if..."

"If we weren't Jedi." He nodded slowly, attempting to conceal his disappointment, whilst silently cursing the Order and its wretched rules. "I understand. Goodnight then, Bastila."

"Goodnight." She held out a hand, which he took. It felt ridiculously formal to be shaking hands with her after the evening they had spent together, and to the astonishment of both of them – especially Jacob – he somehow found himself touching it to his lips instead. Bastila's eyes widened, and for a moment she almost seemed to wince, as if the gesture had touched a raw nerve. Then, recovering her composure, she nodded and smiled at him before hurrying into the ship.

-----

Carth and Canderous were still sound asleep when Jacob entered the cabin, so he guessed that his absence hadn't been noticed. This was something of a relief; he hadn't enjoyed the prospect of facing their smirks and raised eyebrows when they realised he'd been out alone with Bastila. But as he struggled out of his clothes and sank down onto his bunk, now somewhat drowsy with the effects of the wine, the evening's events still weighed heavily on his mind.

He wasn't yet sure what it was that he felt for Bastila. Yes, he found her very attractive – he was only human, after all – but it was more than that. She was nothing like any of the women he'd been involved with before. She fascinated him, with her quiet, uncomplaining acceptance of a fate most people twice her age would find hard to bear – yet despite her outer calmness, he suspected that she was beginning to buckle under the strain. Earlier on, when he had seen her with her father's holocron, it had been as if she was screaming inside...

He badly wanted to help her, but he didn't know how – every time it seemed that she was drawing a little closer to him, she would suddenly pull away again. He could sense that she was wary of him, but was it really just the Jedi Code she was concerned about? Somehow he suspected that there were other reasons for her behaviour, though as to what they could be, he had no idea. All he could hope was that she would eventually trust him enough to feel able to confide in him.

One thing he was certain of, at least: he would face down an entire army of Dark Jedi before he'd let Malak get his hands on her. His jaw clenched slightly as he remembered seeing her for the first time in the Vulkar slave cage; no one should have to go through something like that once, let alone twice. He hoped that this, at least, was something he could protect her from – but Taris and the encounter with Calo had clearly shown that Malak meant business, and he had the feeling things were going to get a lot more serious before too long.

But that was all speculation, anyway, and he was too tired to think any more. Gradually he sank into a long, restless sleep, his dreams a confused mixture of Bastila, Jawas, krayt dragons and black-clad assassins. When he next awoke the ship had taken off again, and they were racing through hyperspace towards the planet of Kashyyyk , every hour taking them one step closer to the Star Forge and their ultimate confrontation with the Dark Lord.


	2. Part 2

A/N: Yes, I originally intended this to be a one-shot, but I'm addicted to this pairing ;-) I'll get onto The Kiss (you know, that one) in the next chapter, but I reserve the right to change or alter lines such as "Shut up and kiss me, you babbling fool!" I know cheesy dialogue is part of the fun of _Star Wars_, but there are limits.

* * *

The three paths stretched ahead into the depths of the Shadowlands, each of them looking equally dark, tortuous and unwelcoming. Jacob looked from one to the other, his heart gradually sinking. "Don't you have any idea where this place is, Jolee?" 

The old man shook his head apologetically. "All Freyyr told me was that the creature's lair is somewhere south of here. He wasn't going to risk the search alone, and neither was I."

Decision time. Jacob cast an eye over the party: two soldiers, one combat droid and four Jedi (presuming Jolee really was a Jedi). "Right," he announced, "I think we should split up."

There were murmurs of disapproval. "Are you crazy?" demanded Carth. "It's pitch dark down here and the place is crawling with vermin. Ever hear of safety in numbers?"

"Scared of the dark, are you?" scoffed Canderous. His tone was more jesting than hostile, but Jacob was determined to nip any potential conflict in the bud before it started.

"Knock it off, you two," he said sharply. "We'll have one Jedi per group: that should be enough." Hastily he scanned the party again, trying to decide which combinations would cause the least friction. "OK, Jolee... you take Canderous and HK, Juhani can take Carth, and I'll go with Bastila. The ones who get there first can use their communicators to contact the others. Everyone OK with that?"

The others nodded in reluctant agreement. "Fine, let's make a start."

They set off, Bastila and Jacob taking the leftmost path. The Lower Shadowlands were even darker and murkier than the upper levels, and almost the only light was that of their sabers; this, combined with the thin mist that shrouded everything around them, made it slow going. For several minutes they walked in silence, tensing a little each time they heard a low growl in the distance or the frantic chatter of a tach.

Bastila had spoken very little since they had set off, and Jacob got the feeling that she was upset about something. She replied curtly to the few remarks he addressed to her, before relapsing into a pointed silence. "What's the matter?" he asked eventually.

Instead of replying, she only sighed. Finally, in a low voice, she said: "Listen, I admire you for trying to help the Wookiees. I'd like to see them freed as much as you would, you know that. "But this 'Bacca's Blade' they speak of..." She gestured helplessly. "It could be anywhere down here – it could take us days or weeks to find it. We don't have the time for this, Jacob."

"We've got time," he said evenly. "We already have the Star Map."

"Yes – which is why we should be moving on to the next planet rather than wasting further time here." Her voice rose slightly. "Every day we waste could mean another defeat for the Republic, and another chance for Malak to discover our whereabouts. I don't think you realise quite how serious our situation really is!"

"And do you suggest we just abandon Zaalbar here?" he demanded. This silenced her for a moment, and he pressed his advantage. "You may not have been there, but he saved our lives quite a few times on Taris. I'm not leaving him here as a prisoner, and I'm sure as hell not going to kill Freyyr, so we've no other choice. Understand?"

Bastila stared at him in exasperation. "You're always so bloody certain you're right, aren't you?" She gave him a withering look before turning and stomping off, leaving him to follow behind. "Sometimes you can be just like – "

She stopped abruptly. Both of them had felt the sudden disturbance in the Force as they rounded the corner, and in case there was any doubt, the sight of several rotting Wookiee corpses in the clearing ahead confirmed that they had found what they were looking for. "It's here," she whispered.

He nodded and took out his communicator. "Carth? You'd better come over here. I think we've found – "

The hideous growl drowned out the rest of his sentence. He and Bastila whirled round as the ground behind them began to shake with the footsteps of something very, very large and heavy. What they saw there was like something out of a child's worst nightmare: an enormous beast, the size of a baby rancor, with a gaping maw full of jagged teeth and two massive claws almost as big as its head. It was heading straight for them, pounding across the forest floor at a rate that had to be seen to be believed.

Jacob had no time to think. Instinctively he hurled his saber at the creature's chest, causing it to stagger back and roar with anger, before seizing Bastila and shoving her aside with such violence that she tumbled over into the wet grass. Then, as the monster bore down on him, he spun around and blasted it with as much Force energy as he could muster – which, to his utter horror, had no effect. The creature lunged forward with its claws raised high above its head, ready for the kill...

After that everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Jacob felt the tips of the huge claws tear into his flesh as he desperately flung himself to the side, and for a second the pain was so overwhelming that it blocked out everything else. He opened his eyes to see the creature towering above him, its arm raised once again to strike the killing blow... and then Bastila's lightsaber was slicing into its neck from behind, ripping through the thick hide as if it were made of cotton. Again and again she slashed at the creature until it collapsed with a final, despairing bellow of rage, barely missing Jacob as it fell. Bastila grabbed him by the arms and pulled with all her strength, dragging him away from the beast's stinking corpse.

"_Idiot!_" Her voice was shaking, as were her hands. "If you hadn't thrown me aside like that – "

"Then it would have got you as well," he growled. The pain in his side was so great that he could hardly speak. Bastila saw the blood which was rapidly soaking through his tunic, and her face turned pale.

"You're hurt. Let me see." Within moments she had ripped a hole in his shredded tunic and was examining the wound, squinting to see in the dim light. "I don't think it's very deep... but it might be poisonous. Damn, I don't have an antidote kit!"

"One of the others will." She nodded and darted across to where Jacob's communicator was lying, still buzzing frantically. "Carth? Can you hear me? Jacob's been hurt. Get everyone together and bring them here, _quickly_."

She returned to Jacob, who was struggling to breathe. The pain was spreading now, through his chest and up to his neck, and his entire left side felt as if it was on fire. "What _was_ that thing?" he gasped. "The Force didn't work on it..."

"It's a terentatek, a creature of the Dark Side – they're almost immune to the Force. I thought they'd all been killed during the Great Hunt!" She fumbled around for a medpac and injected several shots of kolto into his injured ribs, before tearing off her robe and wrapping it tightly around the wound as a makeshift bandage. "That should stop the bleeding soon, I hope. Now we just have to wait for the others..."

Jacob couldn't answer. A terrible numbness was slowly creeping through him, almost worse than the pain, and his vision was beginning to blur. "Bastila... I can't..."

"It's all right," she whispered. "It's all right. Use the Force; I'll help you." He felt her arms around him, and then the Force energy was flowing into him, lending him a much-needed reserve of strength. He gritted his teeth and tried to concentrate on staying conscious. Bastila was damp and shivering; he clutched her against his chest and for a minute they clung to each other, exhausted, taking what small comfort they could from the warmth of each other's arms.

"Hey! Guys, where are you?" The yells and shouts were getting closer. Bastila sat up quickly as Carth and Juhani rushed into the clearing, followed close behind by the others. They stopped short as they spotted the body of the terentatek, gaping at it in horror.

"Holy _shit_," panted Carth. "What the hell is that thing? What happened here?"

"We found the ritual beast. Or rather, it found us." Bastila struggled to keep her voice calm. "Could someone give me an antitoxin hypospray, please?

Canderous passed her one and she quickly injected it into Jacob's arm, praying that it wasn't too late. His muscles relaxed almost immediately, and he drew several long, shuddering breaths. Then, clearly exhausted from the attempt to fight the poison's effects, he passed out.

Bastila sank back, trembling with relief, as the others bent over Jacob's unconscious body. Canderous shot her a wry look. "So I guess your Jedi senses failed again, Princess?"

"Oh, we sensed it," she said shortly. "We just didn't expect it to leap out at us from behind."

He smirked. "Those monsters, huh? They've got no sense of fair play."

Worn out and still badly shaken, Bastila was not in the mood for humorous banter. "Oh, will you shut _up_ – " she began, but Juhani interrupted her.

"Look. Come and look at this." She was bent over the creature's body, staring at something embedded in its hide. The others gathered round to look; slowly, as each of them realised what it was, they exchanged wordless but very meaningful glances. _Now_ what were they supposed to do?

-----

The first sensations to filter through to Jacob's consciousness were dim light, an odd smell and a sort of soft crackling sound, which was difficult to recognise and yet strangely familiar. For a moment he lay there in confusion, staring up at the ceiling in a hazy attempt to work out where he could be. Not on the _Ebon Hawk_, that was for sure...

Attempting to ignore the twinges of pain coming from his left side, he raised his head a little and tried to focus on his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be some kind of small hut, with a low, rounded roof made of pitch. The bed on which he was currently lying, dressed in someone else's nightclothes and covered by a thin blanket, was almost the only furniture in the room. A box and a small table stood in one corner; a frayed-looking rug covered the floor; and across the room from him was – good gods, was that a _wood_ fire? Well, that would certainly explain the smell.

Above the crackle of the fire, he was startled to discern the sound of quiet, regular breathing close to his arm. It was Bastila, who sat slumped against the low bed, her head resting on her arms and her face flushed with sleep. He barely had time to register her presence, however, before the door creaked open and Jolee entered with an armful of wood.

"Ah. Awake, are you?" He tossed most of the wood into the box, then took the remaining few pieces and knelt down by the fire.

With some difficulty, Jacob raised himself onto his elbows to watch the old man. "Is this your house?" he murmured groggily.

"Got it in one." Jolee continued to poke at the fire, his back turned to Jacob. "And that would be my bed you're lying in, too. Some nerve you kids have, expecting an old man like me to sleep on the floor..."

Jacob was used to Jolee's grumbling by now, and took no notice of it. "Where are the others?" he asked, still a little confused.

"Back at the ship, of course. They didn't fancy carrying you all the way back with them." Jolee brushed off his hands, then stood up and turned to face the younger man. "But this young lady –" he indicated Bastila – "insisted on staying with you. Stubborn as a bantha, that one."

Suddenly the memory hit. "The terentatek –" Jacob broke off and shuddered slightly, remembering the massive arm swiping down at him and the screaming pain as its claws ripped into his flesh. "She saved my life..."

"So she did." Jolee glanced down at her again, shaking his head. "Now who'd have thought there would be a terentatek here, of all places? Always thought the only ones left were on Korriban."

"Let's hope there aren't any more of them," Jacob muttered. The burning feeling in his side was growing steadily worse, and he longed for another shot of kolto. Jolee saw the young man wince as he leaned back against the pillow, and realised that he was in considerable pain.

"Wait a minute. I'll get you something that'll ease the pain a little." He went back into the other room, and soon Jacob heard him opening and shutting cupboards and moving things around. In a couple of minutes he was back, carrying a mug filled with some sort of dark green liquid. "Here you go."

Whatever it was, it looked and smelled foul. Jacob screwed up his face as the old Jedi held out the mug to him. "No thanks, Jolee – I've already been poisoned once today."

"Oh, don't be such a baby." Jolee glared at him in annoyance. "Just drink it down, you ungrateful young monkey-lizard. If it's good enough for me and the Wookiees, it's good enough for you."

Realising that he wasn't going to take no for an answer, Jacob took the mug and gulped down the evil-looking liquid as quickly as possible. He grimaced at the taste and handed the mug back to Jolee, who nodded approvingly. "Not so bad, was it? Soon have you back on your feet. Anyway, I'm going to get some sleep now, and I think you should as well." He turned to leave the room, pulling the door to as he went. "Have a good night."

Rather to Jacob's surprise, within a few minutes he was indeed feeling a good deal better. He did not fall asleep, however, but found his gaze drawn to Bastila, who was still fast asleep by the side of his bed. Just to have her there with him was somehow comforting; he could feel her presence through the Force, calm and tranquil, free from the turbulent passions he so often sensed in her when she was awake.

She looked so young and fragile while she slept, for all her strength in the Force. Could this be the woman who, only a few hours ago, had hacked apart a monster twice her size? He reached out and gently touched her face, stroking his thumb lightly along her hairline, and suddenly he was gripped by a powerful ache of longing and tenderness. Memories from earlier in the evening flooded over him, so vivid that he could almost feel the confused sensations of those few moments of when they had held each other. The warmth of her body against his, the low, soothing murmur of her voice, her strength and courage pouring into him through their bond...

All of a sudden he felt her stir slightly under his touch, jolting him out of his daydream. Her eyelids flickered, and for a second she looked as if she were about to wake up. "Please don't do that, Revan," she murmured, shifting position a little before settling down once more.

_Revan? _

Jacob sat bolt upright. "Bastila." He shook her by the shoulder, rather more roughly than he would have done under normal circumstances. "Bastila, wake up!"

"Mmm?" She raised sleepy, bewildered eyes to his. "Oh, Jacob. What is it? Are you all right?" Suddenly she was wide awake, staring up at him in alarm.

"I'm fine," he hastily reassured her. "But just now..." He breathed in deeply, trying to remain calm. "Bastila, while you were sleeping, you called me 'Revan'."

Her face blanched. "What? I..." Just for a moment her eyes were filled with shock and a trace of fear; then, with an obvious effort, she pulled herself together. "Oh, but I – I was dreaming about him. About our confrontation on his ship. That must have been why..."

You didn't need to be a Force-user to tell that she was lying. Jacob fixed her with a cold stare, his face grim. "I'm not stupid, Bastila." He shook his head in frustration. "Why don't you stop lying to me and just tell me what went on between you and him?"

Bastila realised that further denials would be of no use. Her whole body seemed to sag, and she let out a soft, despairing groan, lowering her head onto her arms. "Where do you want me to start?" she mumbled.

"At the beginning."

"Very well." She raised her head once more and took a deep breath. "When I was about nine years old, my parents gave me to the Jedi Order for training. I didn't want to go." She spoke flatly. "I was homesick, and miserable, and I thought I'd never be as good as the others. So a few months after I arrived, I decided to run away."

"What has this – "

She held up a hand. "I didn't get very far before I ran into Revan. He was a Padawan, a few years older than me, and he made me tell him where I was going. Of course, he told me how silly I was being." Her lips twitched slightly. "But for some reason he decided to help me, and he even offered to train me to use the Force."

Jacob could hardly believe his ears. How many teenage boys, even Jedi, would go out of their way to help a nine-year-old? "That was kind of him," he remarked.

"He was kind. I adored him." She spoke with real feeling. "So he helped me with my studies for a while, and then after a few years he became a Knight and left the Academy. I didn't see him again until I was about fifteen, and, well..." A faint blush spread over her face. "I suppose I had a bit of a crush on him."

"Did you tell him?"

She looked at him as if he were mad. "Of course not! But I think he must have guessed... anyway, he soon left to fight the Mandalorians, and then I discovered my Battle Meditation. I _thought_ I had forgotten about him..."

Jacob was beginning to see where this was heading. "But he came back, right?"

She nodded. "A few months before the end of the war... he came back to Dantooine, secretly. Somehow he had got to hear about my meditation, and..." A faint look of pain crossed her face. "He asked me to come with him and help him defeat the Mandalorians."

"But you didn't agree?"

"No. No, I couldn't. I hadn't finished my training, and besides..." Her voice sank almost to a whisper. "The war had changed him – I could tell. I was afraid, even then, that he was falling to the Dark Side."

"And what happened when you refused?"

Bastila flinched. "He..." She sank her head into her hands. "He forced me to admit that I had feelings for him, and he told me that he felt the same way. He even tried to persuade me that I could keep him from the Dark Side. When I told him I couldn't do it, he became very angry and left." She swallowed. "The only time I ever saw him again was when I faced him on board his ship, just before he was killed."

Jacob was lost for words. A confrontation like that must be painful enough under any circumstances, but when the brutal Dark Lord trying to kill you was an old friend... Suddenly he felt ashamed of himself for forcing her to talk about it, and what was more, deeply angry at Revan for treating her in that way. "He got what he deserved," he growled, suddenly hating this man who had caused her and everyone else so much distress and misery.

To his astonishment, he saw a flash of fury in her eyes. "Who are you to say that?" she snapped. "Revan was a true Knight, one of the greatest Jedi in the order. He cared about the Republic, he tried to do what he thought was right, and it destroyed him." Her voice quivered with anger. "You, of all people, have no right to judge. You should just take care that your own pride doesn't lead you down the same path."

Surprised but humbled, Jacob raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "OK, OK, I get the picture." He hesitated, knowing his next question was better left unasked, but was unable to stop himself. "Bastila, did you – "

"No. Never." She spoke sharply. "He never even kissed me, as a matter of fact. Not that it's any concern of yours."

"Did you love him, is what I was going to say," he answered quietly.

"Oh." She subsided a little, and fell silent. For a moment she stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes; finally, without looking up, she spoke. "I'm not sure. I... cared for him very much, certainly."

"And now?"

"How could I love a Dark Lord? Besides, he's dead." When she spoke again he could hear the tremor in her voice. "Though... sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had gone with him. If – if I could really have saved him..."

A sudden wave of grief and pain flooded through to him, so powerful that he could barely contain the urge to take her in his arms and hug her. Instead he merely laid his hand on hers and squeezed it gently, as he had done once before on Tatooine. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't realise." How many times had he said that before during the past few weeks?

Bastila fought back her tears with an effort and made a valiant attempt at a smile. "No. I probably should have told you, but I've never told anyone else before now." He nodded understandingly. "And now, if you don't mind, I would prefer not to discuss it any further."

Jacob sighed. He had absolutely no doubt that every word she had spoken was true... and yet, somehow, he still got the feeling that there was something else she hadn't told him. On the other hand, how could he blame her? He had no right to demand the details of her relationship with Revan, especially when the subject was obviously so painful for her. "All right," he agreed, "I won't ask any more. Oh, and Bastila..."

"Yes?"

"Thank you for what you did last night. And for staying with me."

"That's quite all right," she said softly. "And now I think we should both try and go back to sleep." He nodded, gave her hand one last squeeze, then lay back down on the pillow and rolled over so that he was facing the wall.

It took him a while to get to sleep. Even with his back turned he could still feel her eyes on him, and it made him slightly uncomfortable; besides, he was still trying to take in all of what he had just heard. How was it possible for a crew of ten members – two of whom were _droids_, for Force's sake – to have so many skeletons in the closet? At this rate he was half expecting T3-M4 to sidle up to him and reveal some dark, dreadful secret from the depths of his past. At least he could be thankful that he himself, despite the dubiously legal activities in which he had been engaged for most of his life, had nothing to hide...

-----

Bastila remained fully awake, long after she sensed that Jacob had fallen asleep. Whereas he had gradually calmed down enough to be able to doze off, her agitation had only increased as the night went on. It had been so, so close...

She was going to have to tell him, sooner or later. She'd lost count of the times she had almost called him 'Revan', and she'd only got out of it this time by the skin of her teeth. Eventually he was bound to figure it out for himself, or else they would run into someone who recognised him. She couldn't begin to imagine how he'd react to the knowledge that he was the former Dark Lord, let alone the discovery of what the Council had done to him – but however bad it would be coming from her, it would surely be a thousand times worse to hear such news from a random stranger.

And moreover, she hated lying to him. She had never been happy about it, even from the start, but she'd trusted the judgement of the Council and given her word to them. What she hadn't expected, however, was how deeply she would come to trust and depend on him – and, yes, care for him. For all his faults he was a good man, and a better Jedi than she was; he didn't deserve to be manipulated in this way.

She realised that she was staring at him again, and shivered. Sometimes he reminded her so much of Revan that it was almost frightening; even in his sleep he radiated power. She kept trying to distance herself from him, but at the same time she found herself drawn towards him for reasons she was powerless to comprehend. Again and again she would catch herself watching him, thinking about him, when her mind ought to be on something else entirely...

She knew very well how foolish her thoughts were, and how dangerous. She had promised herself she would never fall in love with anyone again, let alone him. But what she had felt when she saw him hurt – that sudden blind terror at the thought of losing him, as if it she was about to be ripped in two – if that wasn't love, then what was?

Gods, she had to get out of here. Just being near him was enough to prevent her from thinking clearly and rationally. She had to get a grip on herself; she had to regain control...

She stood up abruptly and walked over to retrieve her robe, which had been drying out by the fire. Quietly, careful not to wake either Jacob or Jolee, she stole out of the room and over to the front door. She opened it and crept through as noiselessly as possible; then, shutting the door behind her with equal care, she grasped her saber tightly in her hand and turned to begin the long, lonely trek back to the ship.

-----

Jolee's mysterious medicine must have done its work, as when Jacob woke the next morning, the pain had lessened considerably and he felt a lot stronger. His first instinct was to look for Bastila, but he could sense her absence before he had even opened his eyes. A heavy sigh escaped him as he gazed at the place where she had sat last night, remembering their less-than-romantic conversation. Why did he always manage to mess things up where she was concerned?

"So you've finally woken up." He looked up to see Jolee standing in the doorway. "Feeling any better?"

"Yes... Jolee, did you see where Bastila went to?"

Jolee shook his head. "Back to the ship, I should think." He gave the young man a hard stare. "There is a strong bond between the two of you, isn't there? How long have you known each other?"

"A couple of months."

Jolee looked faintly bemused, and seemed to be about to say something, when suddenly there was a loud knock on the door of the hut. "Hmph. That'll be visitors for you, I suppose," muttered the old man. He headed off to answer the door, and Jacob heard him speaking to someone outside the hut. A short time later he heard the front door slam, and within a few moments Carth was entering the bedroom with some sort of cloth package under his arm.

"Hi there." He spoke cheerfully, but there was a hint of concern in his voice. "How are you doing?"

"Not too bad. I think I can probably just about walk again now." To demonstrate, Jacob pulled aside the bedcovers and stood up with only a small amount of difficulty.

Carth looked relieved. "Good. Kolto's great stuff, isn't it?" He shook his head, almost incredulously. "Last night we all thought you were at death's door."

"You're can't get rid of me that easily, I'm afraid." They both laughed. "How are the others?"

"Fine. Mission's still sulking about not getting to go with us." Carth grinned. "I told her next time we'd use her as bait for any monsters we ran into. Talking of which..."

He laid the parcel down on the bed and began to unwrap it. Jacob leaned forward curiously as his friend carefully unwound the folds of cloth, a knot of hope and excitement forming in his stomach. Could it possibly be...?

"We found this in the terentatek's hide, after you passed out." He removed the final layer of cloth, and Jacob drew in breath sharply. There in Carth's hands, notched and stained but still unnervingly sharp, was the blade of a sword.


	3. Part 3

A/N: Sorry about the delay in updating - slight case of writer's block. This will be the last chapter, as unfortunately the romance pretty much fizzles out after that kiss (until the end of the game, of course).

A quick word for those who asked about my other stories: 'A Beautiful Friendship' sets out Revan and Bastila's previous relationship, which I mentioned in the last chapter. 'Hiding' takes place after the Star Forge, though it's too short to explore many of the issues surrounding their relationship; I may write more chapters or a follow-up at one of these days, but I'm not promising anything.

* * *

"I must thank you, Jacob Sora." The reinstated Wookiee chieftain looked proudly around his hut, now empty of everyone except Jacob's crew and a few guards. "The battle is not over yet, but with Bacca's will we will drive the Czerka slavers off the planet. They will never take another of my people, I swear it." 

"Don't mention it, Freyyr. I'm glad we were able to help." Jacob's eyes fell on the dark, ominous stain where Chuundar's body had lain on the wooden floor. "But I'm sorry this had to end in bloodshed."

The old Wookiee nodded. "I am saddened that it had to come to this, but I could not allow it to continue." He laid a heavy paw on Jacob's shoulder. "In return for helping us, you and your friends may remain here as long as you wish. My guards will protect your ship."

Jacob could feel Bastila's eyes on the back of his neck. "That's very kind of you, Freyyr," he said, "but we need to leave tomorrow."

"As you wish," Freyyr conceded, shrugging. "But is there no way I can reward you? Nothing can adequately repay the service you have done for us."

Momentarily thanking his lucky stars that Canderous couldn't understand Shyriiwook, Jacob shook his head. He was about to tell Freyyr that it wasn't necessary, when Zaalbar took a step forward. "I have a request, Father... if Jacob does not mind."

"Go ahead, Zaalbar."

His friend nodded gratefully, and continued. "Father, I would like to have Bacca's sword, if you will allow it."

"The sword of Bacca?" Freyyr looked shocked; then his expression softened a little. "That is quite a request... but perhaps it would allow me to make amends for having misjudged you so badly." He lifted the blade from the shelf where it had been lying, turning it over in his hands so that it flashed in the light. "Do you understand what this will mean, Zaalbar? It is the legacy of our people, held by chieftains... and future chieftains."

"I understand," Zaalbar growled. "I will bring it back one day, Father, I promise."

"I have no doubt." The old chieftain took up the hilt of the sword and held both parts out to Zaalbar. "Very well, let the two halves be made one. My son shall hold Bacca's Sword."

-----

The small procession made its way slowly back towards the _Ebon Hawk_ – Zaalbar at the head, holding Bacca's Sword aloft in triumph; Mission running alongside him, chattering nineteen to the dozen; and the rest of the following on behind. Jacob hung towards the back of the group, flanked as usual by the ever-faithful HK. "A most satisfactory evening, master," observed the droid, his eyes lighting up gleefully at the memory of the numerous kills he had made that day.

"Hmm..." The Jedi was preoccupied by the sounds of renewed fighting on one of the walkways far below. It wasn't difficult to guess who was winning; most of the Czerka employees here were low-paid researchers and technicians, hardly trained for real combat. He hoped that some of them, at least, had managed to get away...

His attention was diverted by the sound of soft footsteps approaching from behind, and he looked around to see Juhani coming up alongside him. She gave him a shy, hesitant smile, her yellow eyes shining in the dim light.

"Thank you for doing this, Padawan," she said in a low voice. "I know that we have other duties, but... I could not bear the thought of leaving these people at the mercy of slavers."

Jacob returned her smile, secretly thankful for her support. "It is not a problem, Juhani," he replied. The words were barely out of his mouth before it dawned on him that he had spoken in Cathar – broken, heavily accented, but still very recognisable Cathar.

Juhani's mouth dropped open. "You – you speak Cathar?" she faltered, staring at him in amazement.

"Only a little," he stressed hastily, almost as surprised as she was. "Just a few phrases."

She shook her head, still incredulous. "But... I have met almost no other humans who speak my language, even amongst the Jedi. Where did you learn it?"

"Well, I..." he began, then hesitated. Where _had_ he learned to speak Cathar? He supposed that he must have run across Cathar refugees on Deralia, but the strange thing was that he couldn't for the life of him remember having seen any, let alone got to know them. He had met people from scores of other races – Hutts, Mandalorians, even Wookiees fleeing the Czerka slavers – but when it came to Cathar, his mind was a complete blank.

"I don't actually remember, to be honest," he admitted. "We got all sorts passing through the Deraila system. I guess I must have met some other Cathar when I was younger."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, perhaps that is so. But how strange, that you should not remember..."

Meanwhile Bastila, who was walking a little way behind, found her attention drawn to their conversation. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she saw Juhani standing close to Jacob, gazing up into his face with an air of wonderment – and a sudden, violent spasm of jealousy rocked her entire body, so intense that it was almost painful. For a moment she stood frozen to the spot, hardly able to breathe; then, as quickly as it had arrived, the sensation faded away.

She shook herself angrily as she realised how ridiculously she was behaving. What was _wrong_ with her, for Force's sake? Fifteen years of Jedi training, and here she was behaving like a lovestruck teenager – even though she knew perfectly well that there could be nothing going on between Jacob and Juhani, or indeed anyone else. Honestly, she would even be getting jealous of Mission at this rate...

As usual, Jacob must have sensed that something was wrong, because he drew away from Juhani and walked over to her. "Everything OK?" he asked, with a hint of concern.

"Yes, of course." She looked away to avoid meeting his eyes, and shuddered slightly as she perceived a bloodstained Czerka pouch lying forgotten in a dark corner. "Do you think we did the right thing?" she murmured.

"I hope so." For once, Jacob's usual self-assurance was lacking. "I... would have preferred to avoid anyone getting killed. But at least the Wookiees are free now..."

He sounded as if he were still trying to convince himself. Bastila sensed his twinge of guilt and pain through the Force, and whereas she might once have felt the urge to lecture him, at this moment she felt only tenderness towards him. Before she realised what she was doing she had slipped her hand into his, a silent gesture of affection and support.

He looked down at her again, surprised and grateful, and gave her a smile that melted her heart into a puddle. Yet again she found herself thinking how like Revan he was – not just in terms of looks, but in almost every way she could imagine. A slight frisson of excitement ran through her; she could practically feel the sparks between their fingers as they touched... And then he was turning away once more, and she was suddenly back in the real world, wondering what could possibly be happening to her.

_This can't go on_, she told herself. _It has to stop, before things go too far..._

_----- _

Though Jacob had many things to think about on his return to the _Hawk_, somehow his mind kept slipping back to his conversation with Juhani. Despite his best efforts, his still couldn't recall ever having met another of her race, and for some reason this made him deeply uncomfortable. What made it even stranger was that he clearly remembered his surprise on first meeting her – how unfamiliar and alien he'd found her, with her sharp, feline features. Yet who but another Cathar could have taught him their language?

He would have preferred to have been left alone by the others on re-entering the ship – but Jolee, who had returned to the cabin with him, seemed determined to engage him in conversation. "So you chose to help Freyyr, I see," he remarked, an odd expression on his face.

"Yes. I didn't really see how I could do anything else." There was something about Jolee's smile that set Jacob's teeth on edge. "Do you think I should have done things differently?" he enquired icily.

The old man shrugged. "It's not for me to say. I wanted to see how you would handle it." His eyes twinkled with faint amusement. "I've been keeping an eye on you, young one."

Oh, wonderful. First it was Bastila 'studying' him, now this old coot... For the third time in as many days, Jacob found himself wondering if it had been a good idea to let this crazy old hermit join his crew. "So what do you think of me?" he asked, forcing himself to keep his tone polite.

"I don't know." For once, Jolee's reply was entirely straightforward. "I'm not sure what to make of you, to be honest. You've a great destiny before you, certainly – and yet..." He paused. "There is something very dark about you, young man."

"Dark?" Jacob asked sharply. Jolee hastened to placate him. "Oh, I'm not talking about the Dark Side, not necessarily... but there's something about you that I can't quite get a handle on. When I look at you, I feel like my eyes are playing tricks on me..."

Jacob, who had hardly been in the best of moods to start with, was getting heartily fed up of this. "Well, I don't know," he said shortly. "I used to be a smuggler; maybe that has something to do with it?"

"You were? Hmph, so was I. No, I shouldn't think that's it." Jolee shook his head and stood up. "Well, I wouldn't worry about it. You're a fine young lad, no doubt about that." He walked over to the door, then briefly turned back to Jacob. "I hope things turn out well for you, kid."

Jacob was left slightly mollified, but still vaguely unsettled. What could Jolee mean about there being something 'dark' about him? He couldn't think of anything he had done since becoming a Jedi that might lead to the Dark Side. Perhaps an hour or so of meditation would help him clear his thoughts...

He had only been meditating for a few minutes when a sudden jolt in the Force caused him to lose his concentration. Moments later Bastila appeared in the doorway of the cabin, looking flushed and decidedly anxious. "Jacob?"

"Bastila?"

"I must speak with you." Her agitation was palpable, greater than he had ever seen before. "I simply can't keep this to myself any longer. Please, will you hear me out?"

He nodded eagerly, secretly relieved to have something to take his mind off his own worries. "Of course. What's the matter?"

"It's just... this is wrong!" she blurted out. "With all my training I should know better, but..." Suddenly the dam burst and the words came tumbling out, so fast that she could barely control them. "You're not anything like I expected. I find myself watching you when I don't mean to and thinking about you when I don't want to. It isn't supposed to be like this!"

Jacob stared at her in confusion, a tiny spark of hope and excitement beginning to flicker inside him. "What is it supposed to be like?" was all he could manage.

She shook her head helplessly. "I don't know. It shouldn't be so hard not to think of you – I should have discipline! But every time I try to call on all my teachings to calm myself, they fail me..."

"Bastila – "

She held up a hand. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this. I need to be away from this bond of ours – I need to weaken it. If I could only return to Dantooine..."

Even though the thought made him wince, he forced himself to say it. "You could leave, if you really want to. I can look for the Star Maps by myself."

"But I can't," she said desperately. "Malak must be stopped, my own feelings are nothing to that. But I know this could affect our mission if we don't resolve it now..."

The agony in her voice cut to his heart. He grasped her by the hand, looking directly into her eyes. "Bastila," he said gently, "you must know by now how I feel about you. If there's anything I can do to help you, I'll do it."

She sighed and nodded, a rather wistful look crossing her face. "You continue to be there for me, don't you?" she mumbled. "Oh, Jacob, I don't know..."

"I'd like us to be together, Bastila." His voice was a barely audible murmur.

"I don't know," she repeated. "I need time to think about this. Could you... could you meet me on the walkway outside, around midnight? I'll give you an answer then, I promise."

He nodded silently. Bastila hesitated for a moment; then, realising that they could be caught together at any second, she hastily turned and hurried out of the room.

-----

Naturally, the thought of his upcoming tryst with Bastila drove almost everything else out of Jacob's mind from then on. Even the looming confrontation with Malak seemed small and far away compared to this. What would she have to say to him, he wondered – could it be that she was finally ready to confess her own feelings for him? The thought of it set his palms sweating and his heart racing with exhilaration.

That evening seemed to last for ever. Jacob lay stiffly in his bunk for hours, waiting impatiently for the others to drop off and praying that they wouldn't wake up when he left. At long, long last it was close to midnight, and he could finally be reasonably sure that all the others were asleep.

Doing his best not to make a sound, he got out of bed and stole over to the door with the greatest possible caution. He almost made it out of the room; however, it was his misfortune that Jolee was a light sleeper, and heard the faint hum of the cabin door as it slid open. "Going somewhere, kid?" he muttered, raising his head sleepily.

Jacob spun round hurriedly. "I... I just thought I'd go for a walk." He did his best to sound nonchalant, but the effect was not very convincing. Jolee looked at him through narrowed eyes.

"You said her name in your sleep last night," he observed quietly. "Did you realise that?"

Jacob's heart jumped, but by now he had got a grip on himself and was determined not to let Jolee perceive his discomfort. "Whose name?" he said coolly, and turned away.

Once outside, he strolled a short way away from the _Hawk_ and looked out across the forest, marvelling at the enormous wroshyr trees that stretched above them as far as the eye could see. At length he sensed Bastila approaching, and turned to meet her as she walked out of the ship. She wore her Jedi robe over an ankle-length white nightdress, her long, dark hair falling in thick waves around her face. In the soft light of the lanterns that bordered the walkway, she looked so beautiful that Jacob could barely contain his desire for her; however, his only action was to hurry up to her and grasp her warmly by the hands.

"You had something you wanted to say to me, Bastila?" he prompted her.

She nodded slowly. "You have been patient with me, haven't you? I suppose you deserve an answer. But you have to understand how difficult this is for me to say."

"Just say it. Please."

She nodded again, raising her eyes to his with a look of grave sincerity. "You're stronger than I am," she said quietly. "And there's no point in telling me otherwise. You will be a great Jedi some day... I hope."

Jacob felt himself tense with irritation. Why couldn't she just get to the point? "Bastila," he said tersely, "could we just get one thing clear? Is it me you're interested in, or my ability to use the Force?"

She sighed. "The Force is a part of you, certainly... but no, that's not what attracted me to you. It's more than that. I think the bond we share gives us a certain... intimacy."

"And?" His pulse was beginning to quicken, and he felt a faint tingle of anticipation in the pit of his stomach.

"And..." She turned her head away slightly, her eyes no longer quite meeting his. "Well, I've been thinking about this for a long time. And I now realise that my... feelings for you are simply part of the bond we share, and nothing more."

For a moment Jacob felt as if he had been struck on the head by a passing meteorite. He gaped at her in disbelief, hardly able to believe his ears. "_What_?"

"The Council surely realised that my loyalty to the Order would be tested during this mission." She spoke in a careful monotone, as if she were reciting something she had learned off by heart. "By facing – and overcoming – my feelings for you, I have learned a valuable lesson about control and the dangers of emotion. This is an important step in understanding the Force."

Slowly, painfully, her words began to sink in. Jacob clamped his mouth shut and sucked in a long, hissing breath, his initial shock rapidly giving way to anger. "I see," he said with forced calmness. "So I was just another stepping stone on your path to becoming a Jedi Master?"

She flinched. "Please, don't say it like that! You make it sound like I was using you. Don't you realise how difficult this has been for me?"

"Difficult for _you_?" He could barely contain his anger. "And what do you imagine it's like for me? You play around with me, get my hopes up, and now you're telling me that's it? It's all over?"

Now she herself was starting to lose patience. "Well, you've only yourself to blame," she snapped. "I tried to warn you, but you would keep pushing forward – "

"_I _kept pushing forward?" Jacob almost exploded with indignation. "Did I ask you to meet me out here tonight? Was I the one who told you I couldn't stop watching you and thinking about you?" He grabbed her roughly by the arms, forcing her to look into his face. "I've been trying for weeks to avoid saying what I felt, because you said it wasn't possible – and then, this evening, you practically admit you feel the same way and ask me to meet you in secret. What did you expect me to think?"

Bastila had turned white, but she made a heroic attempt to speak calmly. "But I don't feel that way about you, Jacob. I've told you so already."

"You're lying," he said flatly. "I know you're lying, Bastila. If you really don't feel anything for me, why did you ever bring this up in the first place?"

"I don't know – I was confused. I needed time to think..."

"No, you needed time to come up with an excuse." Jacob shook his head wearily, unsure what to do. Could this be how Revan had felt, all those years ago? He stared down at the young woman, seeing the flicker of fear in her eyes, and suddenly he began to understand.

He relaxed his grip on her, holding her more gently, but still firmly. "You're afraid of me, aren't you?" he muttered. "You think I'll hurt you the way Revan did. Or maybe you still feel something for him?"

"No!" Her denial was almost too swift and vehement. "No, it's not that. It's not you I'm afraid of, it's myself." She shook her head in frustration. "How can I stay focussed on stopping Malak if I allow myself to be blinded by my feelings for you? We can't allow ourselves to fall in love, Jacob – it's too dangerous!"

"And if we're already in love?" he said quietly. She was silent. "What's the point in denying it, Bastila? Are we supposed to just ignore it, hope it'll go away?"

She sagged a little, lowering her eyes once more. "We have to try, Jacob," she muttered wretchedly. "Nothing is more important than defeating the Sith – surely you must be able to see that?"

"We will. We will defeat them." He grasped her even more tightly, desperate to make her understand. "We'll do it together, Bastila – we'll help each other. Remember what I said before?"

Bastila stiffened again, and a shiver ran through her. "You mean it, don't you?" she whispered. "But how can I be sure you're right? If – if all this fails because of me, I don't think I could bear it..."

She looked so miserable that for a moment he was almost inclined to give in – but he couldn't stand the thought of this slow, torturous game continuing throughout the rest of their mission, stretching on endlessly into the weeks ahead. It needed to be settled now, one way or the other. "Look," he said softly, "if you really don't want this, just tell me so. Look into my eyes and tell me. I'll understand."

"I..." She struggled to say the words, but they stuck in her throat. How could she claim not to want this, when in truth she longed for it more than anything she could imagine? She couldn't do it; she couldn't bring herself to look him in the face and lie to him. Tears of dismay and confusion stung her eyes, and she angrily blinked them away, disgusted by her own weakness.

Jacob was gazing down at her with an expression of mingled weariness and compassion. "Bastila..." He raised a hand to her cheek to brush away the tears, then slipped it under her hair, drawing her face close to his. _Oh, gods, I've been here before..._ She forced herself to look into his eyes, terrified of what she might find, but there was no trace of the darkness she had seen and felt in Revan – only love and longing. "You know I won't make you do anything you don't want," he murmured.

"I do want it," she burst out, before she could stop herself. "But I can't – Malak will..." She got no further before his mouth was on hers, warm and hard and sweet.

She couldn't move; nor did she want to. When she made no attempt to resist, Jacob slid his arms around her and pulled her close, clutching her against him with a fervour he could never have expressed in words. Everything else seemed to fade into the shadows as they stood there, lost in each other, barely aware of time. And high in the trees above, a pair of curious Wookiee scouts exchanged mystified glances before setting off back to their village, eager to report the latest exploits of the mad outsiders.

The sudden tremor in the Force was no more than a ripple, but it was enough to jolt the pair of them back into reality. Bastila's eyes snapped open and her face turned pale, as if she had only just realised what she was doing. "Oh, no," she gasped. "We shouldn't have done that. It was wrong..."

Jacob's heart began to sink once more. Surely they weren't going back to this again? "Did it feel wrong to you?" he challenged her.

"No, I mean – " She wrenched herself away from him, breathing heavily. "Jacob, I know we both wanted it, but we shouldn't have given in to our desire. Jedi are not allowed to fall in love!"

He groaned. "Bastila, we're going around in circles here..."

"I'm sorry." Her tone was much firmer now. "I don't blame you, but... we _can't_ act like this. Not while we still have to deal with Malak." She hesitated. "Maybe... after the mission is over, we can discuss this again, but not now. Please, try to understand."

Jacob heaved a sigh of frustration. He felt like a child who'd been given a delicious sweet by a friend; now that he'd had a single taste, he craved for more. However, loath as he was to admit it, he knew that she was right – there was danger ahead, and the last thing they needed was for this to become a distraction.

"All right," he said reluctantly. "I see your point. We'll wait until the mission's over."

"If we're both still here then..." She tried to make it sound light-hearted, but her voice was choked with fear. In spite of what they had just agreed, Jacob caught her in his arms again and pulled her into a quick, fierce hug.

"We'll be OK," he muttered, kissing the top of her head. "We'll be OK." And just for a moment, she allowed herself to believe that he was right.

-----

Darth Malak stood alone, as he often did, on the darkened bridge of the _Leviathan_. Admiral Karath could see the outline of the towering figure as he approached from behind, silhouetted against the stars. "Lord Malak?" he said quietly, addressing the back of Malak's head.

Malak continued to stand with his arms folded, staring out into space. "You have news for me, Admiral?" he enquired without turning round.

"Yes, my Lord." Saul took a few steps forward, with the same slight uneasiness he always felt in the Dark Lord's presence. "I believe our agents have traced Revan and Bastila to the planet of Kashyyyk, the Wookiee homeworld."

"Kashyyyk..." Malak swung round, fixing the Admiral with a steely glare. "Is it certain?"

"Not entirely, Lord Malak... but the eyewitness descriptions certainly match." He paused. "Besides, there have been certain... disturbances there of late. It appears that the Wookiees have risen up against Czerka Corporation and driven them off the face of the planet."

"Is that so?" Malak let out a deep, throaty chuckle. "How very typical of Revan. Setting off a revolution when he's supposed to be on the run..."

"We can't be sure that Revan was involved, Lord Malak," pointed out the Admiral.

Malak smiled again. "Admiral, I have known my former Master since the two of us were children. If there is any trouble within five light years of Revan, I can assure you that he will be involved in it somehow."

Saul nodded. "As you say, my Lord. What action do you wish me to take?"

Malak fell silent for a moment, considering. "Hmm. Dantooine, Tatooine, Kashyyyk... I believe I am beginning to see a pattern here." He raised his eyes to Saul's once more. "Would it be possible to intercept them before they leave the planet?"

"I doubt it, sir. There are too few of our forces in that sector at present. Though I could make the attempt if you wish," he added hurriedly.

Malak shook his head. "No, I have a better idea. Set a course for the main hyperspace route by the planet of Korriban." His face twisted into an unpleasant smile. "Somehow I have a feeling that they will turn up there, sooner or later..."

"Very well, Lord Malak." Saul Karath bowed to his commander before turning to depart, leaving the Dark Lord alone with his thoughts.


End file.
